The B'Lair Chronicles
by NemKess
Summary: warnings: violence, language, AU, Xover. Blair's past catches up with him.
1. Discovery

The B'Lair Chronicles:  
Discovery  
written by NemKess  
warnings: AU, Xover, mild language, possible OOCness

The police station was as busy as ever when Detective Blair Sandburg pushed his way through the loiterers gathered around the elevator. Once he'd made it in, he pushed the seven and leaned against one wall, his mind drifting.

It seemed impossible that only a year had passed since he'd stood before a live audience of goddess only knew how many people and declared himself a fraud. The thought still made him flinch a little on the inside, though he'd managed to control his outer responses once he'd realized that it was upsetting for Jim to see.

A snort escaped at the thought. When in the hell had the opinions of one Jim Ellison- detective, sentinel, and friend- come to mean so much to him? It wasn't as if Jim was his only friend, or even the only sentinel he'd ever known, though Blair would never admit it to the bigger man. Even Naomi had commented on it. He smiled at the understatement. She'd been livid once she'd realized he planned on going through with the press conference. He could still remember her voice, harsh as he'd ever heard it. She'd admitted to sending his dissertation to Sid just to push a wedge between him and Jim. Sighing, he rubbed his neck at the thought of how much damage the woman had done and how long it had taken to repair it.

The elevator opened to his floor and he slid past the crush that was getting on. The familiar doors to Major Crimes caused both comfort and amusement to war with each other in his head. Who would have guessed that_ he_ would ever end up a cop?

His older friends were probably very amused at the irony. He knew at least one of them was. A frown settled on the usually cheerful face as Blair remembered the phone call he'd gotten a few days ago. A friend he hadn't seen in ages, had called him up out of the blue saying she was going to be in Cascade soon and needed a favor. For the life of him, he couldn't imagine what she could want. Leandra wasn't even really his friend, more of a friend of a friend.

"Hey, Hairboy! 'Bout time you got here," he looked up to see Henri Brown, H to his friends, holding a phone to his shoulder. "This lady's been calling and asking for you every thirty minutes or so."

"Who is it?" he asked, walking over to take the phone.

"Won't say. Say's she'll only talk to you."

Blair shrugged and got on the line, curious. "Hello? This is Detective Sandburg speaking."

"B'Lair, mon chère. I suggest you get down to the waterfront. I have your nice detective friend and he's not very happy right now." A chill swept through him. The only people who would use Jim against him and call him B'Lair were bad news for his friend.

"Who is this?" he asked, trying to keep his anxiety out of his voice. The last thing he needed was one of the other detectives trying to follow him. The fewer people involved the better.

"You'll see when you get here."

He dropped the phone back on it's jack as soon as the dial tone registered. _Oh, man, Jim... This is not how I pictured you finding out about my past._

Although, come to think of it, he'd never intended Jim to find out at all.

"Well, what did she want?" Blair came back to himself at H's question.

"An old friend, Leandra's coming in a few days and just wanted to check and make sure I remembered." He winced. That sounded lame even to him, but hopefully his friend wouldn't push the issue.

"You're sure?" Though skeptical, it looked like the larger detective was going to let it slide.

"Yeah. Hey, listen. I just remembered that I promised Jim I'd meet him.... somewhere, and I'm already running late, okay, man? So, I'll catch ya later!" The last was tossed back over his shoulder as he hurried away.

~*~*~

The waterfront wasn't exactly a precise address, but he figured the enemy would want a place far enough from the crowds that they didn't draw any undue attention. He parked among a long row of abandoned warehouses and took a moment to collect himself before reaching under the seat of his Volvo and pulling out a 3 ft Grose Messer sword.

Solemn eyes studied the weapon.

How long had it been since he'd been forced to use it? With a grimace, he realized that he hadn't done more than hold the sword since he'd taken on the name and life of Blair Sandburg, student of humankind.

Which meant that he was a hell of a lot rustier than he cared to admit. He could only hope he hadn't lost any of his former skill. 

Tilting his head, he glanced down the row of quiet warehouses and started off in the direction with the least activity. All too soon, the familiar tingle swept up his spine before it came to a rest, niggling in his skull. 

The confirmation that the enemy was a fellow immortal was both disturbing and comforting. The idea that one of his mortal enemies had found out about his past wasn't something he wanted to think about. On the other hand, many immortals thought of mortals as insignificant and wouldn't hesitate to kill Jim if his friend put up too much of a fight or if -and Blair really didn't want to think about this one- if he lost the challenge. 

He entered the building with his sword up and his ears alert, wishing as he often did, that he could trade his immortality for sentinel senses. He could sense the other immortal, but he couldn't sense Jim. Was he still alive? Was he even really a prisoner? 

Questions that would have been easy for a sentinel, left him vulnerable. 

Blair snorted at that. He hadn't allowed a mortal close to him in over 300 years. Alistair had been his best friend and a sentinel as well. For over ten years they'd shared the life of blood brothers until the day that the young Scot had seen him die on a sword blade only to revive before he could be laid to rest. After which he'd been beaten and tossed from the high cliffs overlooking Lock Ness. It had been a valuable, if overly harsh lesson and one he'd not forgotten until he'd looked up one day to see a reluctant Jim Ellison entering his office for the first time. 

It looked like history was about to repeat itself. 

_How many times do I need to be thrown off a cliff before I stop putting myself in this position?_

Shaking off the depressing though, he reached down inside, past Blair Sandburg, to B'Lair of Seville. He stuffed down the peace-loving gentleness and called back the man he'd been before, the one who embraced the violence of a barbarian and the thrill of a challenge. 

He wondered briefly if he'd ever be able to put B'Lair completely back in the box, but decided it didn't matter. Fear-based responses would undoubtedly see him thrown out of this newest life. 

Well, Sandburg, he thought, it's been nice being you. 

Squaring his shoulders, he opened the door. 

~*~*~ 

Detective Jim Ellison glared at the madwoman who paced in front of him, just out of the reach of his chained form. Though definitely insane, stupid she wasn't. 

What really annoyed him was that he had absolutely no idea what was going on. 

The lunatic kept raving about being burnt at the stake and having to kill her best friend and how it was all Blair's fault. 

She stopped suddenly and grinned at him. "Well, it looks like dear B'Lair has finally arrived. 

Cocking his head to one side, he realized that the familiar heartbeat of his friend was just outside the building. He wondered how she'd known Blair was there. Though the woman had a crazy light in her eyes reminiscent of Alex Barnes, she definitely wasn't a sentinel.

He was jolted from the thought as his guide slipped in and moved towards them. Sapphire eyes met his in silent question and he nodded faintly in answer. He was fine, just damned curious and more than a little uncomfortable. The woman had handcuffed him with his arms around one of the roof supports, and his head ached something fierce from where she'd knocked him unconscious with the hilt of her rapier.

"I'm here. Now let Jim go. He has nothing to do with this." The tone of Blair's voice raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Where was his gentle shaman? There was no evidence of that man in the stranger that had come to stand a dozen feet or so away.

"No, B'Lair mon chère. I think he should watch, that way, even if Lucifer helps to grant you victory, he will see you for the monster that you really are." Blair simply stood there and the bored expression on his face seemed to enrage her. "Don't you even recognize me?!"

"Should I?"

Her mouth gaped unattractively for a moment in shock. Apparently she hadn't been expecting that reply. "Do you destroy so many lives you can't separate them anymore? You left us to be burned." There was no change in expression, but Jim could hear his guide's heartbeat fluctuate as that hit home. "I am Solange Baptiste of Bordeaux."

Blair's brows were furrowed as he searched his memory for the dark haired beauty. Jim could see the exact moment recognition hit him. "Solange! But.. we were friends. I haven't seen you since Boston, with Madeline. Around 1700."

Her lip curled in a near snarl. "1693, to be exact. The villagers were still frightened from the Trials the year before. You were seen B'Lair, as you left town, you were seen."

He was surprised to see the other man blanche as if that actually made sense. 

"Oh Goddess."

Solange nodded in savage satisfaction. "Guilt by association. Since you were obviously a demon, then we were obviously witches. They burned us. And when we came back, they burned us again, and again. Until they decided the only way to kill the evil in their midst was to carry us out to see and 'bless' us. Madeline was little more than a gibbering child by then. Taking her head was merciful."

"I didn't know, Solange. I wouldn't have left the pair of you if I had known."

"But you did leave, B'Lair. And you were seen. And we did suffer. Now it's your turn to die." The last was followed by a quick flurry of swordplay as she lunged at her opponent. Jim could only shake his head vaguely aware that he was in shock as Blair quickly pulled up his own sword to parry.

And for a guy who wouldn't touch guns, Blair Sandburg was pretty damn handy with a sword. Jim watched the pair. It reminded him of a carefully choreographed ballet with weapons and a beauty all it's own. But the smell of blood tugged at his attention, both his guide's and the woman's. Sentinel sight located the deep abdominal wound on Blair and an equally bad one on Solange's shoulder.

Deadly intent and concentration filled both their faces and it was with dawning horror that he realized that nuts or not, this was a battle to the death. Perhaps even for them both at the rate they were losing blood.

There was a sharp gasp and Solange fell to her knees, her hands frantically trying to keep her entrails inside her body. She looked up at Blair, hate and resignation in her eyes before bowing her head in defeat.

To Jim's surprise, Blair didn't back away, didn't come check on him. Instead, he raised the sword above his head.

"There can be only one." And with a swift downward stroke, the loser's head rolled. Blair stood still for a moment before dropping to his own knees and looking up at his mortal friend. "Better dial it down, man. This will be pretty intense."

Instinct to obey his guide was the only thing that kept him from overloading when the first tendrils of electricity slithered their way out of the corpse and over to the other man. He was in too much shock to do it consciously.

From where he watched, sentinel senses all dialed down below normal, it looked very much like Blair was being fried alive. It seemed like an eternity before the light and smoke show quit, but he knew that in reality it had only been less than a minute. When it was over, his friend keeled over, his heart stuttering to a complete stop.

"Mmmeph?" He tried to call through the gag he was wearing, tried to wrench his hands out of the cuffs, but in the end it wasn't enough and he was forced to sit there, listening to his guide's bodily functions stop, feeling that body cool, smelling the blood as it pooled and tasting it on the air. His eyes strained fro any sign that this wasn't the end for the single most important person in his life.

He strained his sight until it was too much and for the first time in months, he zoned.

~*~*~

"Jim, c'mon buddy. Follow my voice and come back. I know that was a shock to your system, but it's over now and I need to come back. C'mon Jim. Man-"

It wasn't even the voice that roused him. It was the heartbeat. The heartbeat he'd thought stopped forever, beating again and right next to his ear. "Chief?"

His vision began to come back down to normal and he could make out the blurry form of his guide. 

"Yeah, Jim. It's me. Look, I'll tell you the whole story, but we really need to get out of here." 

Confused, Jim looked around and realized a few things. For one, he'd apparently been out long enough for Blair to get him out of the gag and handcuffs and the other man was gently rubbing the circulation into his aching wrists. Which, of course made him realize that though the smell of blood was still overwhelming on his sense, Blair was whole and undamaged. Alive. Also, the corpse was gone and the scene cleaned up fairly well. Despite the bloodstains that remained, someone just walking through the building would never know that a battle had just been waged inside.

He was torn between wanting to rejoice and wanting to demand answers.

"Chief-"

Blair held up one weary hand. "Please, Jim. Let's just go to the loft. Once we get there, I'll explain things and answer any questions you want to ask, okay?"

Jim nodded and watched as his guide ran a shaky hand through the riot of curls before seeming to pull himself together. Picking up both his own sword and the discarded rapier, he tucked them under his arm and motioned for the sentinel to follow.

Despite his confusion, he did, promising himself he'd get to the bottom of all of this.

~*~*~

Back at the loft, Blair let out a sigh of relief as he rubbed his freshly clean hair dry. Jim hadn't tried to kill him or demand that he leave yet. He seemed willing to listen to the explanation. It was more than Alistair had offered.

Making his way to the kitchen where the big sentinel sat nursing a beer, he mentally prepared himself for the coming conversation and it's possible outcomes. He was so deep in thought that he almost missed Jim's opening question.

"What exactly are you, Blair? You were dead. Hell, with as much blood as you lost, you should be sitting in an emergency room getting a blood transfusion."

With a sigh, he got his own beer and joined Jim at the table. "It's a long story, but you deserve to know the whole thing, I guess." He'd rarely been called on to answer these kinds of questions, it was a big reason he didn't stay in one place for long. He decided to approach it as if he were the teacher and Jim the student. That, at least, he could handle. "I was found by some peasants in Seville, Spain somewhere around 1400, I'm not sure of an exact date. They named me B'Lair and sort of adopted me. The Moors controlled the city until 1492 when the Catholic monarchs defeated the Moslem kingdom of Granada. I'd lived in relative peace for about a hundred years, never staying too long in one place until 1508 when the Catholic fanatics decided to form the Spanish Inquisition and eradicate all Jews and Moslems in the country. Besides which, someone I'd trusted with the truth betrayed me and turned me in as a witch. Double whammy," his laughter was bitter, "with no way out of it. The trial basically consisted of them torturing me until I repented and forswore Lucifer and then them starting again when my wounds healed since I was obviously still evil and lying to save my own skin. When they finally got tired of that, they turned me over for execution. I'm lucky actually. In France a few years later, corporal punishment was usually beheading- which, by the way, is the only way to kill an immortal. As it was they decided to burn the devil out of me."

He paused at the strangled sound his companion made. Chancing a glance, he idly made note of the green tinge to Jim's face before continuing. "Luckily, I only had to go through that once since Naomi took off with my corpse before it began to regenerate. She was the same as me, only a lot older. She took me under her wing and told me about our race and trained me. For the most part, I've moved around as much as I could because it gets kind of awkward when people start to realize that I'm not aging. It also keeps anyone from getting close enough to ask questions about my past. Honestly, The six years here have been the longest I was in one place in over 300 years." Blair shut his eyes for a moment before pinning Jim with sharp eyes. "So basically, I'm about six hundred years old. I'm immortal but can be killed by beheading. Yes, there are others like me. No we don't all get along. We're all involved in this thing called the Game. No clue why they call it that since losers get killed. In the end, there can be only one left who'll claim some unknown prize. Any questions?"

Blair could tell that there were about a million questions buzzing about his friend's brain, but he wasn't sure if Jim believed enough to actually voice any of them. Still, he hadn't been thrown through any walls, so he figured it just might be okay.

"So I didn't really bring you back at the fountain?"

He started at the unexpected question. "Yes and no. Jim, I've died hundreds of times but I've never gone to the spirit plane before. I didn't think an immortal could." Frowning, Blair stared at the beer in his hand as he thought back. "I had a friend help me research it and we found something. Another immortal who'd also been a guide. His sentinel was killed and he fell into a sort of coma, his body was alive but no one was home, you know?" Jim nodded thoughtfully. "He stayed like that for almost fifty years before another immortal happened by the village and took his head. According to the other immortal, his quickening was wrong somehow. Almost as if Kwanita's own essence wasn't even there. So, I got to thinking-"

Jim held up a hand. "Wait a minute. What's a quickening?"

"Oh. Um.. When an immortal dies, all his strength, power, and knowledge, his very essence, passes to the immortal who takes his head. It's the lightening show you saw earlier. An immortal takes that into his or herself and it becomes part of them. The more heads taken, the more powerful the quickening. It has the power to change a person, but it the winning immortals original quickening should always be the predominant one. And at the very least it should be there somewhere. Anyways, I got to thinking that what happened with them was probably the opposite of what happened to us. When the sentinel died, he couldn't bear to let go of his guide so he pulled Kwanita to the spirit plane with him. Leaving his immortal body here, but taking his soul. Darius, that's my friend, he said that it was probably something due to us being a bound sentinel/guide pair. And that if you hadn't come after me, I'd have probably ended up the same- my body here alive, and my soul wandering around the spirit plane waiting for you."

Rubbing his forehead, Jim sighed and stared at his guide. "I don't know how much of this I actually believe Blair. I don't... I don't know what to do now."

Blair shrugged and tried for a feeble smile. "You listened. That's more than I got the last time a mortal found out."

"Why didn't you tell me all this before?"

"When exactly was I going to work that into conversation, man? 'oh hey, how about those Jags, by the way did I mention that I cut off people's heads?' Yeah right. You'd have either arrested me or had me locked up in a loony bin. And those are the better choices. Trust me Jim. I've seen how mortals react- especially those whose entire lives are controlled by fear-based responses. So far telling people's gotten burned at the stake, stoned to death, and institutionalized. I could really turn your stomach with some of my personal history, man."

Pained ice blue eyes met his. "And you really think I'd do that to you? After all we've gone through?"

He sighed and rested his forehead on the table. "Jim, man. Let me tell you about another sentinel I knew. I wasn't his guide, but we were friends. Hell, we were brothers in every way but blood. We fought together against Cromwell. Hell, I married his sister. But when he saw my immortality first hand? He and a few of our other friends beat me to a pulp and threw me into Lock Ness for the serpent to eat. He and I knew each other for ten years, Jim. Ten years. And there was no Alex Barnes or dissertation to make friction between us."

"I'm not going to lie to you Blair. The idea that you kill on a regular basis doesn't sit well with me. And I'm not exactly comfortable with your.. age."

With a solemn, somewhat sad nod, Blair stood. "I can be out of the loft tomorrow. And if that's not enough, I suppose it's time to move anyways."

Jim grabbed his arm before he could get past. "No. Chief...Blair, that's not what I want." Sighing, the sentinel ran his free hand through his hair. "We _are_ friends, Chief. And this.. This won't change that. I just need some time to... to.. " He stumbled a bit, looking for the right word which Blair supplied with a faint smile.

"Process?"

"Exactly!" Jim's nod was emphatic. "Just let me process it. It'll work out, Chief. Sure there was friction after Barnes and the dissertation, but I think we're better friends now because of it, don't you?"

"Sure, Jim." Blair knew his smile was feeble, but he just couldn't summon up the faith to believe. He also knew that Jim could see his disbelief.

"It'll be all right, Chief. You'll see."

When his sentinel sounded so sure, it was impossible not to let some small bit of hope trickle up. Maybe it would be all right. Maybe Jim could handle the realities of living with an immortal.

Blair's smile was a little more real as he went to his room. 

At least he'd have the chance to find out.

I love names and there's meanings.. .Here's the one's for my OC's in this story.

Leandra- Greek name meaning 'like a lion'

Alistair- Scottish name meaning 'protector of mankind'

Solange- French name meaning 'rare jewel'

Kwanita- Native American meaning 'God is Gracious' or 'Grace of God'


	2. Coming To Terms

The B'Lair Chronicles:  
Coming To Terms  
written by NemKess  
warnings: AU, Xover, mild language

Author's note: This assumes a rearrangement in the Highlander timeline to allow for some of the immortals lives to mesh with the Sentinel and Blair's life in particular. Nothing to major, I love both shows and wanted to keep their integrity. ^_^

Jim Ellison leaned on the railing of his balcony and stared out over his city with heavy thoughts on his mind.

In less than a week, his world and what he knew about it had turned on it's axis.

In less than a week, he'd learned of the existence of a race of people who were immortal and seen his guide - arguably the most gentle and caring man he knew- behead a woman. So far, no missing person report had caught his attention and no corpse had been found. Though he'd wondered exactly Blair had done with the body, he'd never actually been able to bring himself to ask. 

There were just some things he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

And while the cop in him was screaming that his guide had committed murder, the sentinel in him pointed out that she wasn't part of their tribe and that she'd been a threat to them. Blair himself pointed out that technically Solange Baptiste had died over 200 years ago.

The detective had decided that he wouldn't do anything about unless the case was dropped in his lap.

But then, what about next time?

Blair had as good as admitted that it was possible it could happen again. He'd promised he wouldn't go looking for fights, but had said he had a lot of enemies and a few might come looking for him.

He sighed and turned around so he could watch the man in question studying at the table. Since the battle with Baptiste when Blair had released the tight control he kept on himself, Jim had noticed a subtle shift in his friend's personality. A hardness that crept in his eyes when they dealt with suspects. 

Seeing it was effecting the way he treated his partner. He'd begun avoiding Blair if at all possible, speaking to him only when it was necessary. And touching his guide had become a thing of the past. In his mind, he kept flashing back to that last moment, the strange mix of ice and fire that had lit the other man's sapphire eyes as he'd swung his sword in the killing blow. In that moment, he hadn't been Blair Sandburg. He'd been this B'Lair person. And more than that, he'd enjoyed it. B'Lair had enjoyed killing that woman. 

Now Jim found he couldn't reconcile what he knew about his best friend and what he'd seen in those eyes. It made him uncomfortable. It made him cringe at the very thought of touching his partner. And although he was aware of it, Jim just couldn't seem to stop himself. 

Sadness seemed to permeate Blair's scent these days, as he was apparently fully cognizant of the bigger detective's problem. 

He shook off his dark thoughts and steeled himself. He was tired and the introspective delving into their current problems was making him cranky. It was time to bid his guide a quick goodnight and go to bed. 

He took a deep breath then forced himself to walk into the loft and through the apartment. He was _not_ going to run no matter how much the urge to get away from the man sitting at table, watching him.

"Night, Sandburg. See you in the morning."

"Night Jim." The soft, sad resignation in that voice haunted his sleep that night.

~*~*~

"So what exactly are you planning on doing, Blair?" Simon Banks, Captain of the Major Crimes Division, stood with his back to his friend looking out over the bullpen. 

Blair ran his hands through his hair and shrugged even though the big man wasn't looking at him. "I don't know. I can't... I can't live like this anymore. I guess it's time to move on. It's worse now than it was after the whole dissertation mess."

"Look, Blair. How long have we known each other? Hundred years? More? As your friend, I'm going to give you some advice. You need Jim Ellison as much as he needs you. To be honest, watching you over the last seven years, I've wondered what you were gonna do when he finally died."

"Carl.."

"Simon," the big man corrected with gruff gentleness. "Carl Robinson is very publicly dead. You know that. Or should I start calling you Richard?"

The guide grinned faintly. One of the biggest surprises in his life had come the day he'd walked into this station with Jim looking for a Captain Simon Banks to get his credentials for a ride along. Instead, he'd found an old acquaintance in the form of Carl Robinson. He wondered if it had ever occurred to Jim to question the blatant disbelief that 'Simon' had displayed that day, or the early tenseness between the pair. Carl had once been a slave during the Civil War and because of a multiple betrayals both then and later, he'd always been slow to trust. It probably hadn't helped the situation that Blair had been a frequent visitor on the plantation that had owned him. Although the older immortal had never joined in the cruelties that had so frequently occurred there, he hadn't tried to stop them either.

It had taken a couple of years to prove himself.

"Simon." His smile faded and he slumped down into the chair. "I just don't know what to do. This is the first time I've really enjoyed actually living my life since I had to put Richard Burton to rest. I hate having to give it up now. It's not even that Jim's a sentinel, ya know? He's my friend." He snorted. "Or at least, he was before. I don't have so many that don't mind losing the better ones."

The bigger man turned and clapped a hand against his friend's shoulder. "Well, for what it's worth, if you decide to go, I'll miss you. You're not so bad after a while." He squeezed gently. "And I'll take care of Jim for you."

Blair nodded in gratitude and hefted himself out of the chair. With his head down, and all sorts of depressing thoughts swirling around his head, he didn't see the solid wall of flesh until he'd bounced off it. "Oomph."

Strong hands grasped his shoulders to keep him from falling and he had to force down a sob of loss when his sentinel let go of him again. It had been the first touch between them in a week. 

"Turn around, Chief. I think you, me, and Simon have something to discuss." The words were growled and Bair's eyes shot up to see anger and betrayal in Jim's face.

_Oh shit,_ he thought. _ He must have heard us talking._

"Uh.. Jim, it's-"

"Save it, Sandburg." The bigger man pushed him back towards the office.

Simon was no fool. Once the pair were in his office, he sighed and motioned for Jim to shut the door and pull the blinds. "What can I do for you, Detective?"

"I want some answers."

"You know, Jim, ease droppers never hear anything good."

"Yeah, well. When your _friends_," both his companions wince at the emphasis he placed on the term, "are keeping secrets, sometimes it's the only way to find out the truth."

The big captain steepled his hands and rested his chin on his fingertips. "Blair already explained about immortals. Yes, I am one also. What else do you need to know?"

Jim seemed at a loss. Apparently he'd been expecting more resistance. "What about this Game? Shouldn't the two of you have fought it out years ago?"

Blair chuckled. "We did once... What was it, Carl? '40?"

"You know very well it was in '29 while I was playing baseball."

"Yeah, man, that's it. A mutual friend made us see it was sort of pointless and even if we could never be friends ourselves, we shouldn't be enemies."

"Well, McLeod has that effect on people. He lives just up in Seacouver, you know."

Blair practically bounced on his toes. "Really? I should visit sometime soon.. See if he's heard from Connor or Darius recently."

"Wait a minute. Could we please get back on track here." Jim looked a little lost as the conversation threatened to move into '_old friend'_ territory.

His guide's face instantly took on a contrite expression. "Sorry, man."

"Jim," Simon's voice was kind, almost fatherly. "I know this is a shock to you. But don't you think it was a shock to us in the beginning? As a sentinel, you should be used to the occasional oddness of the world by now. Hell, some of the things that happens to the two of you just because your a Sentinel and his Guide freaks _me_ out."

"But that's different!" If it had been anyone other than James Ellison, Blair would have called the desperation and near petulance in the man's voice hysteria.

"How is it different? So Blair and I will probably live longer than you, so what?" There was an intent look on Simon's face as he tried to make his friend understand. "Neither of us can do the things a sentinel can do. And to be brutally honest, if now really is the time of the Gathering, like McLeod thinks, it's very possible that either or both of us could lose our heads tomorrow."

The lost look intensified as the sentinel struggled to gather his own argument. "But.. It's murder, Simon! Hell, you're all practically serial killers!"

Blair winced. "Jim, it's not like we don't have our own rules. Or that there aren't both good and bad immortals. It isn't all black and white, man. You've gotta think outside the box with this."

Jim latched onto the rules comment like it was a lifeline for a drowning man. "What kind of rules? Who enforces them?"

If that's what it took to calm Jim down and keep his friend, Blair was more than willing to lay it all out for him. "The big ones? No fighting on holy ground. All challenges are one on one with no outside interference. That means no tag teaming and no using mortals."

"How could a regular person hurt you?"

Simon fielded that one. "We have sort of a sixth sense with each other. When one immortal gets within a certain distance of another, both can feel it. For us, there's no way one can get within beheading distance without the other knowing it."

"Sort of like a car alarm!" Blair quipped up enthusiastically, earning a glare from both his companions. He raised his hands in mock surrender. 

"Anyways," the captain continued in a very put upon voice. "We don't have that with mortals. Some of the bad apples out there have been known to let a handful of regular crooks take down their opponent and then just step in and take the head while the victim can't defend themselves. Not many, because that's a good way to get yourself on a headhunter's list. As for holy ground... well, it's not possible for us to kill there. I've only heard of someone trying to break that rule once."

"What happened?" Even the anthropologist was curious. He knew the rule of course, but he'd never known what would happen if it was broken. It just didn't pay to push some limits

"Their swords shattered. And no," he waved off Sandburg's question. "I don't know how or why. Just that it happened."

"The last rule is that once it's all over, there can be only one immortal left standing. If we don't fight, compulsion will take the option out of our hands. It's what the Gathering is all about. I don't think it's here yet though, Simon. I mean, I respect Mac and all, but there's just too many of us that aren't being driven to join the Game. Look at us, man. If it really was time, we wouldn't have made it past that first day. Friends might be able to put the instincts off but at the time we barely tolerated each other." His brief humor faded and he turned troubled eyes towards the first mortal he'd allowed to get close in over 300 years. "So? Are you to be able to get a grip on this? Keep me as a partner and a roommate? Or should I get my cover story in place and move on?"

Although it was foolish, in his heart Blair kind of expected the same reassurances Jim had given after the fight with Solange. The conviction that with a little time, the bigger man could come to accept who and what Blair was. That it wouldn't effect their friendship. And even the last week of avoidance hadn't quelled that hope.

So it was a struggle to hide the pain that spread through out his heart and soul when his sentinel shrugged, an apologetic look on the chiseled face. "I don't know, Blair. I thought I could handle it, but..." Jim shrugged helplessly. "I just don't know."

The shattering sound in his ears was so loud, he was amazed that his partner couldn't hear it. But then again, he supposed even sentinel hearing wasn't strong enough to hear a heart break.

~*~*~

Jim frowned as he monitored his guide. He could still see the stricken expression that had crossed the fine-boned features before the blank mask that now graced them had slipped down.

He wanted to promise Blair that he could get past this, but he wasn't at all sure that he could. It was easier with Simon because for one, he hadn't actually watched his captain cold-heartedly behead anyone, and for two, he'd seen Simon kill before- in the line of duty.

And he really didn't like the idea of a race of men running around the world thinking they were above the law. It just didn't set well with him. Sure, they'd said there was rules, but when you got right down to it, it was up to the honor of the person whether or not they followed those rules. There was no one around to enforce them. What kind of law was that?

He was jerked out of his thoughts as the radio crackled to life. The address given for the robbery in progress was close and he nodded to Blair who let dispatch know they were on it.

Sandburg grabbed for the dash as he did an abrupt u-turn in the middle of the street and muttered in a voice just loud enough for sentinel hearing. "You know, man. One of these days Simon's gonna make you take defensive driving."

Jim ignored him and made it to the jewelry store a lot quicker than his old pick up truck should have been able to make the trip.

Getting out of the truck, Jim made a quick sweep of the store. His head cocked to one side and concentrated on sorting through the sounds assaulting his ears. Once he'd filtered out the background noises, he was able to pinpoint the robbery itself. "Three perps. Two handguns and a shot-gun. One store clerk and a customer." He recognized this store as one Carolyn had used to frequent and knew there was a back entrance. His most immediate instinct was to make his guide wait in the car, but the old excuse -'you're not a cop, Sandburg'- didn't work anymore. Besides which, Blair was immortal. Even if he did get shot, he'd heal. Decision made, he passed the plan onto his partner. "You go in the front and distract them, I'll get in through the back way. Try not to pull your gun until I get there."

Nodding his understanding, Blair moved forward.

With one last glance, Jim moved down the alley alongside the building and slipped into the side-door that led to the back storeroom. His hearing was dialed up just enough to let him hear his partner walk in, pretending to be a customer. 

He grabbed his head when the shot-gun inside was fired. Not waiting for the ringing in his ears to die down, he burst through the back door. "Cascade P.D., Freeze!" As expected, rather than listen, the robbers swung their weapons towards him and he fired two shots, disarming the ones carrying pistols. The other had his hands up, a sawed-off shot-gun dangling from one finger. Beside him, the store manager- a short guy with glasses- had pulled his own pump-action shot-gun and had it resting against the back of the burglars neck. "Drop your weapons. Blair, call it in while I Miranda-ize these bastards."

His only answer was a moan. Turning his attention to his partner, Jim's nose was suddenly overwhelmed with the smell of blood. _His guide's blood. _"Sandburg!"

"hey.. Jim." 

The sentinel kept his gun leveled on the men, but all of his senses were focused on Blair. "Chief?" He back up to where the other man lay and rested a hand on one trembling shoulder.

"deal... with the.. bad guys first." The rattle of death made it hard for the guide to talk and Jim wanted nothing more than to rush him straight to the hospital even knowing that this wouldn't be permanent. He took his partner's handcuffs and cuffed the two more dangerous looking criminals and left the other in the manager's dubious care before returning to his guide.

"You'll be all right, Chief. Go ahead and let go, I'll be here when you wake up."

A bitter, congested laugh met that pronouncement. "you... just don't.. get it. do you, man? I die here... in front.. of witnesses.. Blair Sandburg dies... for good." He winced as violent coughing wracked the dying immortal. "they don't... burn you anymore... they _study_ you."

Jim jerked back as if scorched. It had never even crossed his mind that Blair could face the same fearful scenario. It made since though. Even more than enhanced senses, the government would drown in their own drool if presented with the chance to figure out immortality. 

There was no way in hell he'd let that happen to his friend. Glancing around, a vague plan formed in his head. No one had really gotten a good look at Blair because the shot had caused him to fall half out the door. The scatter-shot that Blair had been hit with had torn up his chest, but not gone all the way through. His multiple layer of clothes had, so far, managed to catch the blood. If he could just get Blair up and to the truck without anyone getting a good look at the wound, then when someone asked, he could say that his partner had been wearing a vest and was bruised but not in need of a hospital. No one on the force would question that since he tended to coerce his guide into seeing the paramedic for every little scratch. If Jim Ellison didn't think Blair Sandburg needed a hospital, then he must not need a hospital.

Standing back up, he moved over to the manager. "Sir, can you please keep an eye on these three while I take my partner out to my truck. He was wearing a vest, but he's been sick the last few days and I'd like to make him comfortable. I also need to let dispatch know that the situation is under control. Will you be all right?"

"Oh yes! Thank you very much!" The glee in his eyes would have made Jim hesitate on any other day. Right now though, he was too worried about his partner to care whether this victim terrorized his assailants or not.

Already, he could hear the sirens approaching, letting him know that he didn't have much time. If Sandburg was still out of the car when they got here, someone would try to engage him. They always did.

Crouching back at his guide's side, he maneuvered one arm under the sturdy shoulders, wincing at the gasp of pain it caused. 

"jim... man.. wha're.. ya doin?"

"Getting you out of here before anyone starts asking questions, Chief. What's it look like?"

Weak hands batted at him. "no... leggo... i die... i's all over... yer.. prob.. lems..."

The sirens were louder now and closing fast. "Listen up, Sandburg. We can talk about this later." He hoisted Blair to his feet, catching the man when he swayed drunkenly. "Right now, we don't have time. Just put one foot in front of the other, like a good little guide, and let's get you to the truck."

Luckily, Blair didn't seem to have the energy to fight him about it anymore and just did what he was told. Jim shouldered most of his guide's weight, and the pair shuffled over to the truck. 

He'd just gotten the other man up into the truck seat as the uniforms pulled up. If he hadn't been so thankful that he'd had enough time to do what needed to be done, he'd have berated them on their slow response time. As it was he slammed the door on his truck shut and made his way back into the jewelry store, discreetly wiping the blood off his hands and onto his shirt inside his jacket.

Jim didn't waste any time shooting the breeze with the officers that had shown up. He just told them what had happened- an abridged version- and let it be known that he and Blair could be reached at the loft later.

Then he went to take care of his guide.

~*~*~

He was washing the blood off Blair's still chest when the faintest hint of cigar smoke hit him and the sound of his captain and friend cursing incompetent maintenance men drifted up from the ground floor of their building. 

With a sigh, Jim dipped the bloody cloth into the pan of warm water. It was the sixth such pan and it was already pink. His partner had surfaced briefly once they'd reached the loft. He'd had just long enough to make the sentinel understand the importance of cleaning all the debris from the wound before his heart had stuttered to a stop again. 

Jim had cleaned the area the best he could and used his sentinel sight and touch to dig out the shrapnel and pieces of cloth and buttons that had been imbedded in the gory mass. He'd been able to see the tiny tendrils of light flicker in quick trails as it went to work fixing the immortal. A few times, his fingers had gotten in the way and he'd gotten a small jolt from them. The damn things stung, but at least they provided tangible proof that with a little time, Blair would be all right. 

Wrinkling his nose, the big detective got up to get the door, swinging it open just as Simon had raised his hand to knock.

"You, know, Jim. One of these days..."

"I could always close the door and let you knock, Simon."

The black man's gaze looked over the senior member of his best detective team, taking in the weary lines and the deep sadness. "Jim, my friend. You need a drink." Gently, he pushed Jim back into the apartment and over to the balcony. "Just stand out here where the smell won't overwhelm you and let me get you one."

It was a testament to how lousy Jim felt that he allowed the manipulation and direction. When his captain came back out, he accepted the proffered beer without comment. He just stared out over his city, lost in thought.

"He came to four times while I was cleaning out the wound, Simon."

Simon grimaced at that. He'd had similar deaths himself and knew the pain that consciousness brought while someone was trying to make sure nothing would impede the natural healing progress. He'd also seen what happened to a wound when the quickening had to heal around something that had been missed. Shadow pain would last until the unnatural object had been worked out of the body. It was a slow and often excruciating process.

"It wasn't your fault, Jim. It was just Sandburg's bad luck, that's all." 

But the sentinel was shaking his head. "Simon, I could have come up with another plan, or we could have waited for the uniforms to get there. I only did it the way I did because I knew he's immortal. I didn't even stop to think about what the consequences would be if anything happened. I just knew he'd live through it and it was more than the rest of us had."

"Jim-"

"I never stopped to consider that just because you guys can come back doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt. God, Simon." Hunched over, he rested his head against the side of his beer bottle. He could feel the condensation slipping into his thinning hairline and welcomed the coolness. "He said... " Jim's voice cracked and he broke off for a second, scrabbling for his control before continuing. "He said that if I just let Blair Sandburg die, all my problems would be over."

"Jim. I've been a slave, a lawyer, a politician, a baseball player. And eventually, all those lives had to come to an end. If we stay in one place for too long, people start asking questions."

"Sandburg said you'd be studied."

"Probably. You've always feared the government finding out about your sentinel abilities, so you can imagine a fraction of our own fears. But unlike you, our bodies won't just quit eventually and give us the release of death. If we're ever captured for study," he shuddered at the thought. "Well.. I don't really want to think about it. So it's just easier to move on. Some lives are harder to walk away from than others. You can't even imagine how hard it was to give up being Carl Robinson again. He was an amazing baseball player on his way to the top with nothing to stop him. Except a very public beheading which had him labeled a murderer and forced him to 'die'. It'll be at least another fifty years or so before I can play baseball again. Maybe even longer." He turned so that he could watch his fellow immortal. "For Blair it's even worse. Anthropology had always been his greatest love, that and sentinels. When he had to let Richard Burton die and his wife burn so much of his research-"

"Wait a minute," Jim's hands came up and caught Simon's arm. "What do you mean? Let Richard Burton die?"

The taller man chuckled, the first honest amusement he'd had since Blair had confessed that Jim knew what they were. "You mean, out of that whole conversation this morning, that's the one part you missed?"

Jim just glared at him, silently urging him to continue.

"Didn't you ever wonder why he knew so much about Burton's work? Even the stuff that was never published, just mentioned here and there?" At his friend's negative he sighed. "He _was_ Richard Burton, Jim. _He_ studied those tribes, _he_ wrote 'The Sentinels of Paraguay'. Hell, that's the life he was living the first time I met him, at the plantation where I was owned, before I died the first time. Naomi was living on one of the neighbor's places as a southern belle and he visited frequently since he was courting my owner's daughter. Anyways," There was emphasis in his voice as he picked back up from where he'd been interrupted. "Because of how specialized and narrow the field is, it was nearly a hundred years before he could go back into the field as Blair Sandburg. Now, because he's publicly declared himself a fraud it could be even longer before he can even study it again without raising questions. At least another three or four lifetimes."

The sentinel shuffled his feet uneasily with all the talk of slavery and fraud, but did manage to grasp what his friend was saying. It had always been a little strange, he supposed, that Blair always seemed to know just what was needed to help him. How many other sentinels had his guide known? Had he been a guide to any of them? Had there ever been another like Alex?

"Jim. I can tell you have a million questions. I suggest, that if you're going to ask them, then you need to be prepared to accept this thing. I've known Blair a hundred years, our friend McLeod knew him for almost three hundred. In all that time, neither of us have seen him stay in one place for more than year and he's never allowed a mortal close. Hell, even other immortals only get in so far and believe you me, the McLeod's are hard men to resist. They're as bad as Sandburg when it comes to drawing people in and making them want to be friends. He's so wrapped up in you that I'm actually afraid for him."

"What do you mean?" Jim ignored the faint warmth that filled his chest because he really wanted to know the answer. He just didn't see how having a friend could be so dangerous. 

"Jim, one of these days, you're going to die and he's going to be left to pick up the pieces. If he goes crazy with grief, I can pretty much guarantee that he'll lose his head damn quick."

Staggering, Jim turned and went back inside needing to be nearer to his guide. Even with everything circling around in his head this last week, he'd never once thought about all the disadvantages that came with immortality. As some people did with his senses, he could only see the positive and not the negative.

Looking over the still body, he made sure it was still healing before sinking back into his chair. Simon joined him and they sat like that, each deep in their thoughts waiting for their friend to revive.

~*~*~

Blair gasped and arched his back in pain as he came to life again. _Oh man, that hurts_, he thought. 

"Chief?" He turned his head towards his friend's voice and found Jim kneeling beside the sofa, a worried look on his chiseled features and a glass of water in his hand. "Simon was here earlier. He said you might be thirsty when you woke up."

The curly haired man accepted it gratefully and downed most of the cup before handing it back. "Oh, man. I feel like I was hit by a Mack truck."

Jim winced faintly and stood to take the glass back into the kitchen but he stopped when Blair caught hold of his pants leg.

"You okay, big guy?"

"Yeah, Chief. I'm fine." The guide watched his sentinel moving around the loft, straightening random things as he went. One hand was run through the thinning brown hair before Jim finally expelled a sigh and moved back to where his partner still lay. "Chief.."

Encouraged by the use of the familiar and much loved nickname, Blair smiled tried to think of a way to ease whatever was preying on his friend's mind.

"Chief. I'm sorry. About how I acted before." Jim grinned faintly at the wide-eyed surprise that met the apology. "The way I've acted the past week was uncalled for. You are, and always will be my friend. I guess being immortal is no weirder than being a sentinel or a shaman and I've already accepted those."

"Whoa. Man, I-" Blair stopped for a second to blink back the wetness that threatened to form tears. "I'm glad. That you can accept it, I mean. I didn't want to lose your friendship, man."

Nodding, the bigger man moved to sit next to him on the sofa and Blair had to move his feet real quick to keep them from getting squished. "I just. I've decided to keep treating you the way I always have. I know that bumps on the head and the occasional stray bullet won't do any permanent damage, but.. I never want to have to listen to you die a half dozen times on my couch again, Chief. I don't think I could stand it."

"Jim, man." He paused to think about how he wanted to say it. "No matter how much shit I give you, I don't mind when you go into Blessed Protector mode, man. I mean.... Nobodies ever cared enough about me to bother. That means a lot to me. That you do. Hell, I kinda like it. And to be honest, yeah, maybe I do come back. But no matter how you die, it always hurts like a bitch. I'd just as soon avoid that whenever I can."

The pair shared a grin and Jim reached over to ruffle his guide's tangled curls. "Me too, kid. Me too."

"You do realize, of course," laughing blue eyes met laughing blue eyes. "That I'm, like, at least six hundred years older than you are, right?" He stopped and mischief filled his expression. "Of course, I still have all my hair, so I can see how you'd be confused."

One of Jim's arms snaked around his neck and he was caught as the bigger man gave rubbed fisted knuckles over his head. "I'll show you, brat."

The sounds of their frolicking echoed through the loft and Blair released the tension he'd been carrying for the last week. 

Everything was going to be all right.

TBC 

in the third B'Lair Chronicle 'Tough Favors'


	3. Tough Favors

The B'Lair Chronicles:  
Tough Favors  
written by NemKess  
warnings: AU, Xover, mild language, some violence, assisted suicide

Author's Notes:  
1) Darius and Connor McLeod are my two favorite Highlander characters, so of all the immortals who traipsed through Duncan's life, you'll see mentions of them more often than anyone except Carl Robinson/Simon Banks.   
2) Many thanks to Shar-Lee for the idea of "In The Year 2525 (Exordium & Terminus)" as the most annoying song ever. I actually like it, but it does get old after being stuck in your head for a few hours and I think it would drive Jim nuts.. ^_^ And thanks to everyone else who contributed their own opinions, I'll be keeping them all in mind for future fic needs. (The Barney Song was actually the other big consideration, but I didn't think Blair would have had the opportunity to get it stuck in his head on a normal work day)  
3) someone asked me if this was going to become slash later one in the series. The answer to that is no.... and yes. This is a gen series, but-at the request of a few friends- I will attempt to write a second version that will be slash, or failing that, let them slash it themselves.   
4) I am not, in any way, shape, or form advocating suicide.   


"But through the eternal night... The twinkling of starlight.... So very far away... Maybe it's only yesterday... whoa-uh-whoa...  
In the year 2525... If man is still alive...If woman can survive...They may find.......hmm-um-um...In the year 3535....Ain't gonna need to tell the truth, tell no lies." 

For the doezen-th or so time, Detective Jim Ellison glared at his partner. "Chief, would you _please_ quit singing that song?" 

The curly head tilted to one side and the look that Blair Sandburg leveled at Jim clearly said that he had no idea what the sentinel was talking about. 

"The song, Garfunkle. You've been singing it for the last half hour and it's starting to get on my nerves."

"Oh. Sorry, man. I didn't realize I was singing out loud." Miming zipping his mouth shut, Blair turned back to his computer screen to finish typing up the report he'd been working on. Blessed silence filled their little corner of Major Crimes for all of five minutes before the humming started. 

Valiantly, the sentinel tried to ignore it.

"In the year 4545...Ain't gonna need your teeth, won't need your eyes....You won't find a thing to chew....Nobody's gonna look at you.... hmm-um-um... whoa-o-whoa... In the year 5555."

Jim tried to dial down his hearing. It shouldn't have taken much, the words probably weren't even audible to anyone else in the bullpen. But he'd never been able to tune out his guide, not even in times like this when he really wanted to.

"In the year 9595....I'm kinda wondering if man's gonna be alive....He's taken everything this old earth can give...And he ain't put back nothing...no-o-no... "

Closing his eyes, the big detective counted to ten before sitting back and staring at his partner. 

"Now it's been 10,000 years...Man has cried a billion tears....For what he never knew.... Now man's reign is-" Luckily, it didn't take Blair long to notice his scrutiny and dark sapphire eyes met his own with contrition. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

The sentinel just nodded.

"I'm, like, so sorry man. It was playing on the way to work this morning and I haven't been able to get it out of my mind since."

"Well, you'd better try, Junior. Or I'm going to be forced to tape your mouth shut."

"Aw, man. Don't be like that. It's not a bad song, and philosophically speaking it's pure genius. In fact-"' Before Sandburg could work himself up into the lecture, he ground to a stop, his head jerked up and he stared out the door of the Major Crimes bullpen. 

Behind them, the captain's door opened and Jim turned to see Simon standing there, his eyes as intent as the other's. In that moment, it flashed back into his mind. 

Car alarms.

A little less than two weeks before, Jim had been kidnapped by a woman out to get revenge on his partner. It was then, that he'd learned about the existence of immortals and that Blair Sandburg was one. A week ago, he'd overheard a conversation between his two friends that had lead to the revelation that Captain Simon Banks was one as well. During the explanation they'd told him about the warning system that immortals had for one another, which Blair had laughingly referred to as a car alarm.

Within moments, a woman stopped in the doorway and her weary brown eyes passed over the other occupants of the bullpen. They hesitated briefly on Simon before sliding down and settling onto his partner.

"Leandra." Blair's hushed tone was unthreatened, but also held some surprise. "My God, she looks like shit."

As usual, his friend was right. For someone who's body healed itself automatically, she certainly didn't look all that healthy. Her entire body was skeletal, skin pulled tight over bone, as if she hadn't eaten for months. Dark hair was cropped close to her skull looking lackluster and ill-kept. But it was the eyes that really disturbed Jim. They were absolutely devoid of any life. This was a woman who was just barely going through the motions of a living being but was already dead inside.

He was roused from his thoughts a moment later as Blair jumped up and rushed to the door, pausing just long enough to turn back to his partner. "I've got to see what's wrong, Jim. Is there anything pressing today?"

Jim just shook his head and let the other man go.

His captain, having ascertained no threats, had gone back into his office and no one else in the bullpen seemed to have even noticed anything unusual going on.

So the big sentinel was left to wonder just what it was that would drive an immortal so far and hope it never happened to either of his friends.

~*~*~

Blair was shocked at Leandra's appearance. The woman he remembered hadn't been beautiful by modern standards, but she'd always been passably pretty and filled with a zeal for life that had often made him feel old even though he was actually several centuries younger.

Memories of Solange, driven to bitter hatred and revenge by multiple burnings flashed through his mind. 

The detective didn't question the woman, despite his urgent desire to demand answers. Instead, he herded her down to his Volvo and took her back to the loft.

During the whole process, older immortal never made a sound. She gave no word or action that even showed she was aware of what was going on. That more than anything, unnerved him. 

Once safely ensconced upstairs, he sat her at the table and prepared tea. He was searching for some biscuits or something else easily palatable when Leandra finally exhaled deeply and gave him her full attention.

"He's dead, B'Lair."

Blinking, Blair it only took a minute to figure out what she meant and he groped blindly for the chair next to hers, sitting heavily. "How? The last I heard, he was on holy ground." He was proud of how calm he sounded.

Bony shoulders shrugged. "He wasn't killed by one of us. A group of mortals held him while another took his head."

"No," His protest was sharp as the implications hit and she nodded, affirming them.

"His quickening was lost. Duncan McLeod took vengeance for his death and there is no quickening to take back. I've come to ask you to take my head. My memories of Darius should go to someone who knew him well and there are only three of us left. McLeod refused my request."

And as simple as that, her deteriorated condition made sense. With only a few sentences, she'd answered all his questions.

Leandra had lost the only being on the planet that had made life bearable for her. Undoubtedly, she'd been dead inside from the moment she'd heard. 

An echo of Simon's worries for him sounded in his ears; an image of Jim flashed through Blair's mind.

And sudden empathy made Blair shudder.

~*~*~

"Chief, you can't do this. It's one thing to kill in a challenge, in self-defense. At best, this is assisted suicide. At worst, it's murder."

Blair ignored his friend as he watched the still form laid out on their couch. Apparently this wasn't the first time malnutrition had killed the woman, but Leandra had insisted she couldn't eat. Waiting for her to revive, he wondered how he could make Jim understand. The man had been home for the last hour and had not been happy when he'd heard about what the Greek woman wanted.

"Jim, man. Darius was everything to her. She's already dead in every way that counts."

"Sandburg, it is not your place to decide that." Even if Jim's upbringing hadn't been overly religious, suicide was seriously taboo for him. 

He sighed and turned to try and reason with the bigger man. "No, it's her place and she's decided." When Jim made as if to protest again, Blair held up a hand, asking for silence. "Jim, like this she's a danger to herself and everyone else. It's not like we can stick her in an institution for the rest of her life, that could be a very long time."

Stopping, he rubbed his chin wearily. Sometimes being immortal really sucked. Days like this, he just wished he could stick to the nice black and white world that ruled mortals like Jim Ellison.

"Darius was everything to her. He found her as a child in one of the villages he'd taken."

Jim motioned for Blair to pause. "Wait a minute, this is the same Darius you were telling me about, right? The priest?"

"Yes."

"Then how did he 'take' villages."

Blair sighed again and sat down at the kitchen table, gesturing for Jim to do the same. "Darius wasn't always a good guy, Jim. He used to be a Roman general.. A pretty ruthless and brutal one too, from what I heard. He and his armies were responsible for a great deal of the spreading of the Roman Empire throughout Europe. He found Leandra in a small Greek village. See, we can sense an immortal even if they haven't had their first death and that's what happened with them. She was still a toddler and he just took her. From that day on, Darius was everything to her. Father, brother, mentor, teacher, best friend. Later they may or may not have been lovers, I don't know, I never felt it was my business to ask. Then one day, Darius chased down and beheaded one of the two oldest immortals that ever lived and took a White Quickening." Anticipating his friend's next question, Blair silenced him with a shake of his head, and continued. "Basically, he became good with one stroke of the sword. That's what I meant when I said the quickening had the power to change a person. Anyway, he took up a life of priesthood, including the abstinence that went with it and as far as I know, never carried a sword again. He was traveling as a monk when I met him."

Lost in thought, he remained silent until Jim prompted him. "Yeah, and?"

"Remember when I told you about Naomi finding me after I was 'saved' by the Spanish Inquisition?"

"Um-hm."

"Well, she was a little... uh... vengeful at that time. Not quite as brutal as Darius had been, but still in some serious need of meditation or drugs or something. She mentored me in the ways of being an immortal. Then, she suggested we go exact revenge on those who'd burned me. Which we did. I won't lie, Jim. It felt great, to make them suffer like I'd suffered. And that's what she taught me I was supposed to do. Even after we'd killed those involved, we didn't stop. We traveled through the country taking what we wanted, killing anyone who stood in our way. And then one day we ran into this monk who insisted we stop. Two swords to a walking staff and he still kicked our asses then calmly insisted that there were better ways for us to live out our lives. Naomi probably just wanted to get into his robes, but she stayed with him for a couple of years, wandering around doing good things instead of bad. After she finally got bored and left, I stayed a few more years." he paused again, a sad look on his face. "I wouldn't be who I was today without him. He taught me a lot of good things."

Jim's big hand rested on his shoulder, offering silent comfort. Blair was grateful for it. "I'm going to miss him."

"I'm sorry about your friend, Chief."

"Me too, Jim. Me too."

~*~*~

Utter silence filled the forest, making Jim wonder if the animals and birds knew what was coming. 

He'd tried, off and on over the last several days, but neither Blair nor Leandra would be dissuaded from this path. In the end- after watching the woman suffer through another death by malnutrition, after staring into those horrible dead eyes night after night- he'd reluctantly agreed not to impede the beheading in any way. Blair was right; Leandra was dead in every way that counted and if her body hadn't been immortal, then the rest of her would have been dead as well.

Now the trio found themselves in a silent forest, the two immortals having a final moment of reminiscing for their lost friend. He knew he could have heard what they were saying if he'd wanted to, but was giving them as much privacy as he could.

The wind blew softly, tangling Blair's loose curls and ruffling Leandra's shorter locks. They both stood, faces turned up, looking out over what countryside they could see from the edge of the chosen cliff. Jim had already made sure that there were no two-legged animals about and was just there to bear silent witness. Besides which, he had a feeling his friend would need him when all this was said and done.

"It's time." For the first time since she'd walked into the station, there was life in the woman's voice and peace in her face. 

Jim found it impossible to begrudge her that peace.

She knelt in the dirt and bowed her head as if in prayer. Perhaps she was praying. He doubted he'd ever know.

A sad, grim expression graced Blair's face as he positioned his sword. It was so very different than the last time Jim had seen him in the pose. There was no joy in this beheading. No righteousness or vengeance. This was just Blair, making the choice to grant this tough favor to the friend of a friend no matter what it might cost him personally.

"There can be only one."

Thankful for the warning, Jim turned his head away before the killing blow actually landed, not wanting to actually see his friend kill again. He also grabbed a hold of his dials with everything he had, remembering the other quickening he'd seen. 

Lightening streaked around them, turning the sky black and tearing up trees by their roots. It almost seemed to the sentinel as if the entire Earth was shaking. On and on it went, far longer than it had with Solange. 

Then, it just stopped. Abruptly and without warning. He took a moment to make sure it was safe before easing his dials back up to normal and was surprised when a hand grabbed his arm.

For a long minute, they stood there, waiting for Blair to get enough control over his emotions to complete their task.

Tucking the curly locks behind his ears, the remaining immortal took a deep breath before exhaling slowly. Despite the tiny hitches Jim's enhanced hearing could detect, Sandburg looked about as 'in control' as he was gonna get.

"Let's go."

~*~*~

Blair stood, watching the flames, remembering lost friends. Once upon a time, watching corpses burn had given him flashbacks and nausea. Thankfully, time had cured him of that. Now, he just stared at it. The tiny embers that floated to the sky, the strange mix of colors. It was fascinating in a morbid sort of way.

"This is what Simon's afraid of, isn't it?"

He came back to himself at Jim's question. He'd almost forgot that he wasn't alone. "What do you mean?"

"After the jewelry store he talked to me. Told me he was worried about what would happen to you when I finally died." The big man nodded towards the funeral pyre. "This is what he meant, isn't it?"

Blair turned serious eyes onto his friend. He'd actually thought about that the first day Leandra had shown up. Would he lose his own will to live when Jim died? He'd like to think he was stronger than that. "I don't know. Probably. He's said since the first that we were too close."

"Will you do something like this?" There was concern in Jim's voice. The Blessed Protector in him probably couldn't stand the idea that something might happen to his guide that he couldn't fix; that he would probably end up being one of Blair's biggest sources of grief and pain one day.

"I don't know what'll happen, man. Speaking for immortals in general, most of them grieve and move on. Some go nuts and kill everyone who looks at them cross-eyed until someone else puts them down. Only a handful take it as far as Leandra. And I'd like to think I'm strong enough to at least make some peace with it eventually."

"Why do I hear a but in there somewhere?"

Blair had to grin at Jim's suspicious tone. "_But_ I've only known of one other immortal guide and I already told you what happened to him." He sighed, frowning, and leaned back as Jim moved behind him, accepting the comfort in the spirit it was given. "Simon and I have already discussed it. If it comes down to that, he'll take my head himself."

The big man's grip on his shoulders tightened briefly. "The idea that I might accidentally pull you into death behind me doesn't set well with me, Chief."

"No, I don't expect it would." Turning, Blair looked up and smiled faintly. "But there are worse ways to go than to follow a friend. And worse immortals to receive my quickening than Simon. It'll be all right, Jim."

It would be.

Blair wouldn't let it be any other way.

~*~*~ 

"In The Year 2525 (Exordium & Terminus)"

In the year 2525  
If man is still alive  
If woman can survive  
They may find........  
  
In the year 3535  
Ain't gonna need to tell the truth, tell no lies  
Everything you think, do, or say  
Is in the pill you took today  
  
In the year 4545  
Ain't gonna need your teeth, won't need your eyes  
You won't find a thing to chew  
Nobody's gonna look at you  
  
In the year 5555  
Your arms are hanging limp at your sides  
Your legs got nothing to do  
Some machine, doing that for you  
  
In the year 6565  
Ain't gonna need no husband, won't need no wife  
You'll pick your son, pick your daughter too  
From the bottom of a long glass tube  
  
In the year 7510  
If God's a comin' he ought to make it by then  
Maybe he'll look around himself and say  
``Guess it's time for the Judgment day''  
  
In the year 8510  
God's gonna shake his mighty head  
He'll either say ``I'm pleased where man has been''  
Or tear it down and start again  
  
In the year 9595  
I'm kinda wondering if man's gonna be alive  
He's taken everything this old earth can give  
And he ain't put back nothing...  
  
Now it's been 10,000 years  
Man has cried a billion tears  
For what he never knew  
Now man's reign is through  
But through the eternal night  
The twinkling of starlight  
So very far away  
Maybe it's only yesterday...  
  
In the year 2525  
If man is still alive  
If woman can survive  
They may find.......  


Written by Richard Evans  
Produced by Denny Zager and Richard Evans  
Released 1969  



End file.
